


The Angel & Andrew-verse

by beetle



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M, Post-Chosen, post-nfa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 14:24:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/pseuds/beetle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fydyan asked for Angel and Andrew at the movies. Five hundred words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sweet Tooth

**Author's Note:**

> Notes/Spoilers/Warnings: Oblique, for “Chosen” and NFA, I guess.

“I don’t get why we can’t just  _buy_  candy at the concession stand, Angel,” Andrew whines as he and Angel take their seats in the theater. “I don’t like having to sneak gummy bears in. They make my pockets all sticky.”  
  
“Well, I offered you a Ziploc baggie.” Angel’s  _I-told-you-so_  is so heavily implied, Andrew rolls his eyes.  
  
“You know, it’s a good thing I find your cheapness both adorable and sexy.”   
  
“I’m not cheap, I’m--frugal.” At Andrew’s fondly doubtful gaze, Angel scowls. “It’s bad enough  _tickets_  these days are so expensive! Do you know how many pieces of butterscotch and peanut brittle we could’ve gotten for  _$3.50_  in the old days?”  
  
Andrew snorts and walks his fingers up the arm of Angel’s leather jacket. “No, but I bet I’m about to find out.”   
  
“A lot,” Angel contents himself with saying, but that impressive scowl is still in place. Which means broodage throughout the whole movie.  
  
“Look, I’m sure good candy was both cheap and plentiful four hundred years ago, but now--if you want good candy, you have to be willing to spend.”   
  
Angel does a Spike-ish eyebrow-thing and Andrew laughs, taking a handful of gummy bears out of his jacket pocket. He pops two in his mouth; orange and red, the best possible combo.   
  
“Trust me; one day, you’re gonna taste something so sweet and yummy and tempting, you just  _have_  to have it. When that happens, you won’t mind spending money to get it and why are you looking at me like that?”   
  
But Angel doesn’t answer, nor does the strange, considering look leave his face. Andrew blushes, touching his  _own_  face and wondering if he has a yellow gummy bear stuck to his chin, like he had that time they went to see  _Spiderman 3._  
  
Hmm. No gummy bear, yellow or otherwise.  
  
“Um, Angel? Can you not do that hungry  _vampyre_  gaze-thing? It makes me kinda--” Andrew doesn’t get to finish because, with alarming speed-- _maybe Angel’s not all-the-way shanshu’d_ , he thinks--Angel pulls him close and kisses him. Not a hard, possessive kiss, like usual, but soft and gentle. His tongue flicks over Andrew’s lips briefly.  
  
“Hmm . . . you’re right,” he murmurs. Around them, the lights dim; they both blink in the sudden glare from the movie screen.   
  
“I  _am_? About what?”  
  
Angel smiles a little. “Next movie we see, I’ll buy you all the candy you want, okay?”  
  
Andrew doesn’t know what brought this sudden largess on, but-- ”Okay. Um . . . that means I don’t have to sneak in gummy bears in my pockets anymore, right?”  
  
Angel steals another kiss, quick and sorta dirty. “Right.”  
  
“Cool.” Andrew grins shyly and offers Angel a green, slightly linty gummy bear. Angel takes it, his eyes a dark glitter as he brushes Andrew’s palm lingeringly.   
  
By the time the previews run, Angel’s examining the in-seam of Andrew’s jeans.  
  
By the time the opening credits roll, Andrew’s squirming, gummy bears quite forgotten.  
  



	2. Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Fydyan, who wanted Andrel, with references to “the popcorn of doom”. Five hundred words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes/Spoilers/Warnings: I plan on writing some more of these, so--this is a sequel to “Sweet Tooth” in the Andrel!verse (patent pending).

“I still don’t see why you don’t just throw it out," Andrew says, watching Angel chew his way through a huge mouthful of movie theater popcorn with no apparent relish. "I mean, it’s gotta be stale by now.”   
  
Angel glowers, but the effect is ruined by the chipmunk-face he’s got going on.   
  
“Miff sill ferfeffy ehwishus,” he says. Andrew rolls his eyes, pours himself a cup of hot cocoa, and takes his seat next to Angel at the kitchen counter.  
  
“If you say so . . . but it’s, like--three weeks old now, and the last time you ate a few handfuls, you, um, turned greenish and spent two hours in the bathroom.”  
  
This time, the glower is extra strength. Andrew shrugs and looks down at his cocoa, a small smile playing about his lips. “All I’m saying is--you didn’t have this much trouble swallowing last night, so it’s gotta be the popcorn.”  
  
Angel’s indignant squawk turns into a frantic gasp as he sucks a popcorn kernel--or several, Angel’s still really bad at the whole ‘breathing-while-eating thing’--down his windpipe.  
  
Sighing, Andrew puts down his cocoa, gets up and starts pounding his choking boyfriend briskly on the back. “Come on, sweetie, better out than in . . . that’s it, you can do it--eww,  _gross_ \--”  
  
\--as Angel starts hacking up half-chewed popcorn all over the counter Andrew just cleaned that morning.  
  
In a few minutes, the coughs have turned into relatively even breathing and Andrew’s pounding has turned into a soothing, sensual backrub. . . .  
  
Which turns into a  _thwack!_  upside Angel’s head when the big doofus reaches for the bag of popcorn  _again_.  
  
“Ow! Hey!” Angel turns to glare. Andrew’s already in simper-pout mode.  
  
“Angel . . . just throw it out, ‘kay? Please?”  
  
“I’m not gonna waste perfectly good popcorn! I paid  _$5.75_  for it, and I’m damn well gonna  _enjoy_  it!”  
  
“Argh!” Andrew snatches the bag off the counter and upends it over the garbage. “There! So much for the evil Popcorn of Dooom! Ha-ha!”  
  
Angel’s looks both irritated and amused. “Andrew, I’ll grant you it wasn’t the freshest bag of popcorn, but I hardly think it could be called--”  
  
“ _Evil_!” Andrew says firmly as he tips the last few unpopped kernels into the garbage and crumples the bag. “You’re just lucky I was here to save you from its pernicious thrall.”  
  
“Am I?” Now Angel’s almost smirking. Andrew smiles knowingly (like a certain former-member of Cardassia’s mysterious  _Obsidian Order_ ).  
  
“ _Quite_  lucky, my dear Julian--I mean Angel.”  
  
Instead of making the  _huh?_  face, Angel smiles. And in one of those eerily  _vampyre_ -esque bursts of speed, he’s standing  _right there_ , gazing solemnly down into Andrew’s eyes.  
  
“My hero,” he murmurs, and it doesn’t seem like he’s joking.   
  
Hmm.  
  
Then he’s pulling Andrew into a  _meltyslowsoft_  kiss and there goes  _that_  train of thought.   
  
All in all? Very much a wow! moment, except--  
  
“Um . . . Angel? Could you. . . .”  
  
“Yeah. . . ?”  
  
“. . . go brush your teeth? You taste like stale popcorn. . . .”


End file.
